


on the reckless desire for the defeated and their bitterness

by LadySpearWife



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Post Bahrain 2019, Power Imbalance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySpearWife/pseuds/LadySpearWife
Summary: Charles might still reek of champagne and sweat, but there’s no victory on that. Lewis smiles, consolatory and benevolent.
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	on the reckless desire for the defeated and their bitterness

Lewis knows the implications of the statement, but he has a hedonistic streak in himself. Who can say no to beautiful things and stay away, though? It might be a character flaw or a natural tendency – either way, he finds himself following Charles after the bloody interviews, finally away from the asinine journalists and wandering eyes of the paddock. Bahrain’s air is engulfed in punishing heat, and even that can’t compare to Charles’ indecipherable eyes when he throws a half casual look over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, forcing a smile that’s all politeness and a pungent lack of anything else. Lewis wants to – well, unimportant. “Wasn’t thinking I’d see you again.”

“Just wanted to see if you’re alright, man.” Lewis doesn’t take a step to invade his space, doesn’t push his overalls aside, doesn’t tear his fireproofs. He doesn’t, but entertains the thoughts anyway, and Charles remains distinctively oblivious.

“You don’t grieve a race, right?”

The little, precious Ferrari prince shrugs carefully, hands hidden, his face betraying more tiredness than disappointment. Lewis wants to smooth the frown on his forehead – he looks as young as he is when he’s happy, grinning like crazy. Most of all, Lewis wants to fix his goddamn hair, that sweaty mess crowning his head in complete disarray. Charles seems to have a habit of running his fingers through it, and there’s a strand falling over his minx eyes, stubborn and charming and definitively boyish.

Of course, he doesn’t do any of that. Not when they’re still in the middle of the paddock, with eager vultures starving for a scandal starring himself and this new champion in the making. It’d be a disaster. And Charles ducks his head, sighing quietly, his body jittery. Now, _that_. The first lost opportunity is always a bitch, especially because of something as fickle as engine problems. He might still reek of champagne and sweat, but there’s no victory on that. Lewis smiles, consolatory and benevolent.

There’s a brief spark of comic revolt in Charles’ almost morose expression. It’s gone too soon, too harshly, but he makes a point of committing it to memory despite that. Pride is the food of racers such as them after all. This almost-miracle of a boy doesn’t want to be comforted, and it’s _obvious_. Lewis pets his shoulder patronizingly, feels under his fingertips as he tenses – outside the eye of the hurricane, Charles doesn’t take things with that unfailing, saccharine grace of his. That’s a dizzying victory.

“Yeah, you don’t,” Lewis agrees mildly, shaping the smile into a leering grin, his gaze prying the man with a lean body and a biting fire from under the boyish disguise of crimson hopes and near angelic sweetness. “You just commiserate your defeats.”

“Commiserate,” Charles echoes, one eyebrow raised. Milquetoast but not stupid.

“What else?” Finally, _finally_ , Lewis steps into his space, crowding the boy. He can’t deny the crazed thrill as a flush colors Charles’ sharp face and he falters.

“ _Okay_.” The recuperation is only sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> should i be working in spider searching? probably. am i? no i'm going through my drafts and taking dust away from a few weird projects. i hope you liked this!!!


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